Well, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story. It was born out of a frustration with Harry/Ginny pieces and a plot bunny that wormed its way into a dismal writer's block. I simply had to go with it.
Enjoy:
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, Ginny, Hogwarts, Voldemort or any people/places/things you recognize from the wonderful JK Rowling's Harry Potter series.
Ginny hadn't even finished Hogwarts. Midway though her seventh year, just as the NEWT exams were starting to stress her classmates out, she was summoned by Dumbledore. Quickly, solemnly, he had explained that her advanced Charms work and the medical training she'd had with Madam Pomfrey would be valuable to the cause. A few tense conversations with her parents later and Ginny was an early graduate of Hogwarts – and a field mediwitch.
That was how she had ended up with Harry in her tent, lying on the bed and looking awful, bruises and cuts and blood covering his face. Ginny sighed. She hated war and she hated healing and she hated that it was only spring and her classmates were still in school, worrying about who was dating who and what nail polish matched what shirt.
"Hi," Harry said.
"Hi." Ginny took a cloth and began to clean his cuts. "What happened?"
"Death Eater," Harry said nonchalantly. "He didn't kill me, but he sent me flying and
a couple of strange spells hit me on the way.
Knocked me about. But I'm alive."
"Yeah," Ginny said softly. Bill, her older brother, couldn't say that
anymore. He had died only two weeks ago,
tortured to death by a Death Eater – some said by Lord Voldemort himself.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked.
"What do you think?" Ginny asked. Usually, she was polite and caring and sweet to her patients, but she had known Harry too long for that. He knew how she felt. He was just trying to make her forget that day in her sixth year, when they had been dating for three months and she'd overheard a conversation between him and Ron that enlightened her – Harry was dating her out of pity.
"Do you have many patients?"
"No," Ginny said sarcastically. "They're dying out there by the hundreds and you're the only injury."
"Sorry," Harry said.
If she hadn't been so eager to prove she deserved Dumbledore's trust, she might just have put a bit of viper venom in the potion she used to clean Harry's cuts, just to make it sting. But that would be horrid, especially because viper venom was only used for deep, disgusting cuts that hadn't been cleaned for over a week.
"Where will you go now?" Ginny asked, bandaging up a nasty cut on Harry's wrist. The Order – Dumbledore's Army – had a strict medical leave policy. If you were injured badly enough to be taken to the medical tent, you had to rest for a week or more, depending on the injury.
"My flat," Harry said. "I'll be safe there for a week."
"Harry!" Dumbledore appeared in the tent beside the bed, scaring Ginny but not Harry.
"Dumbledore," Harry said calmly.
"Is he behaving?" The older wizard asked Ginny, his eyes twinkling.
"Excuse me sir," Ginny said, walking away. They had a lot of things to discuss, the two of them. Sometimes, she eavesdropped, but not today. Not now. The war had gotten worse over the past month and Ginny was too busy to eavesdrop. Already, her next patient was being brought in.
When Ginny was dismissed that night, she went home. Her mother wouldn't hear of her taking a flat in London by herself, where most of the other Special Duty wizards and witches lived and instead insisted on Ginny living at home.
"Ginny," her mother said warmly. "How was work?" That was all she ever said. Despite the fact that every wizard and witch in the world knew about the Dark War in England, Ginny's mother refused to accept the fact that her only daughter, her baby, worked in a war zone. Instead, she called it "the field" or simply "work."
"Fine," Ginny said. As long as her mother said work, Ginny refused to speak of the horrific examples of curses and injuries delivered to her hourly in that medical tent.
"Were you in Tent E again today?" Mrs. Weasly asked.
"Tent A," Ginny said. "I was with Clarissa again, though. She's really sweet."
"That's nice," Mrs. Weasly said. "Have a cookie." She offered Ginny a plate of thick chocolate chip cookies. "They're fresh, this afternoon."
"Thanks." Ginny took two. She was just a little bit surprised that her mother was still functioning properly. Bill's death had been a surprise to them all, but Mrs. Weasly had somehow managed to stay cheerful and calm.
"Hi, Ginny," Ron said, striding into the room. "Cookies? Oi, Mom, why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she knew you'd eat them all," Hermione said. Hermione, possibly the smartest Auror England had known in three centuries, was on maternity leave right now. She was nearly nine months pregnant – and annoyed at her bedridden status.
"Hello," Ginny said. She smiled a bit, but she couldn't appear very happy. She hated Hermione and Ron sometimes, for getting to graduate from Hogwarts and having found each other. Maybe if she had a boyfriend, or a fiancé, or a husband, this would all be easier. Probably not.
"Work tough?" Hermione asked.
"Same as always," Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders.
"It has to end sometime, right?" Hermione led Ginny into the living room, her face bright. Ron liked his desk job fine, thank you very much, and Harry preferred to gloss over the nastier details – but with Ginny, Hermione could get the full scoop, the whole action.
"It was awful," Ginny moaned as soon as she sank into the couch. "There was a witch today, really close to death and she kept asking me if I would tell Bertie and I said I would, only I don't know who he is."
"Is the fighting bad?"
"Yeah." Ginny wiped her eyes. "Death Eaters are surrounded our camp by the thousands now. They've got Dementors alongside them, too, which is doubly worse. We can't keep up with them."
"The newspapers don't say…."
"Of course they don't. Why would they? It would only scare the general public. They keep it a secret, all the work that we do. This girl, Clarissa that I'm paired with. Her parents think she's doing a year abroad. She writes all kinds of letters and uses magic to postmark them Italy and France and Spain. They don't know she's a mediwitch in a battle zone."
"Oh." Hermione sighed. "I wish I could be there."
"No, you don't." Ginny looked sideways at the older girl. "You're lucky, Hermione. You got to finish Hogwarts and start a life. I'm only seventeen, and I've seen more blood and death than most people see in a lifetime. It isn't fair."
"I wish it would end," Hermione said. "This thing has carried on for too long. That's true enough. But while it's going, I'd like to be able to say that I'm helping. You can't understand what it's like to sit here…."
"I suppose I can't," Ginny said. "I guess you're right.